Peas and Fathers

 

I love it when the peas in my garden are ripe and ready to harvest in time for Father's Day! When I pick the pods and open them up to enjoy the tasty little delicacies, I feel a special link to my Dad.

Farming was in my father's blood. He was born in Talmage, Utah where his parents were homesteading in the mostly undeveloped Uinta Basin. He grew up learning to tame the wild land and figuring out how to nurture crops to be profitable. When he reached adulthood, he moved to Salt Lake City for a short time (where he met and married my mother) to work "city jobs" for a few years, before returning to his real love when my parents purchased a farm west of Payson.

I remember a year he grew peas. He loved peas, and I remember walking with him as a very young boy to inspect the crop. He showed me how to pick a ripe pod and open it to expose the peas inside.

But he died when I was only 7. After we sold the farm and moved into town, my mother helped me become a fan of gardening, and peas were always one of the first and most important seeds to plant. That remains the case to this day. Each time I pick a plump pod and open it, I remember my father with fondness and appreciation. And I #GiveThanks for the gift of a precious association that continues to bring me a little closer to that mostly unknown figure from my childhood. Happy Father's Day!